


Kings of the cargo hold

by evakuality



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 75 Dates In The Skam Universe, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, cruise ship workers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 12:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: “You’re early,” a voice says, a breathy, stuttery quality to it as its owner pants into the room behind Isak, the clatter of his feet loud as his footsteps echoes off the metal of the walls.  “I was supposed to be here before you.”“What is all this?”  Isak gestures at the table laid out in front of them.“Well, you agreed to eat with me,” Even says, his unfairly gorgeous blue eyes lit up as he stares into Isak’s soulAka, the one where Even gets extra as he prepares for the perfect moment with Isak.Filling the prompt 'cruise' in the 75 dates in the Skam universe fic and art fest.





	Kings of the cargo hold

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what happens on cruise ships so just think of this as how it works in this unnamed parallel universe where Isak and Even only met once they started working for whatever company this happens to be.
> 
> Art at the end by the wonderfully talented [Camilla](https://hjertetssunnegalskap1.tumblr.com/), who also helped with reading and supporting and cheerleading this fic. Camilla, you're the absolute best!! Her post with this art can be found [here](https://hjertetssunnegalskap1.tumblr.com/post/186753562005/have-a-little-painting-of-isak-and-even-3-this).

It’s dark, the narrow corridors are featureless and even though Isak now knows this place like the back of his hand, he feels lost. And, okay, so he knows them like the back of his hand in daylight. Which is a far cry from this. Dank, musty, reeking of sea. Did he mention _ dark? _ Because it’s fucking dark in here.

_ I’m going to kill Even, _ Isak thinks viciously, his thoughts turning anxious as he gets further from the well lit areas of the ship and curses himself for lacking the forethought to bring a flashlight. He runs his fingers along one wall as he cautiously makes his way down the corridor. It’s wet, with misty condensation coating his fingers as he moves, sliding them along to find his way. He shudders, his skin feeling clammy and cold as he makes his way down the confined space. He reaches the final doorway and breathes out, a small sigh of relief that he finally found the damn place, but irritated to notice just how shaky that breath is as it mists in the cool air around him.

This is supposed to be a warm summer, but out here in the ocean it’s always freezing at night. At least it is down here in the parts of the ship where heating is usually unnecessary. The jacket Isak put on isn’t doing anywhere near enough to protect him from the chill and he’s shivering as he turns the cold knob and pushes the door open.

“Even?” he calls, stepping into the room and glancing around.

It should be just another cargo hold, filled with boxes and other things deemed necessary for the running of a successful trip with hundreds of demanding passengers. But it’s not. Sure it’s still dingy, and there are unidentified boxy shapes lining the walls. But the center has been cleared out and in it there’s a small table with the most pretentious white table cloth Isak has ever seen, its sheen obvious even in this low light, and a flowery pattern etched into the fabric. 

Fairy lights ring the edges of the space, hanging off some of the boxy shapes. Some are large and white, casting a bright glow over the table below. Others are smaller, colored in many different hues and twinkling as they blink on and off, seemingly without any pattern or rhythm. The resulting effect is something like the inside of a Christmas tree, and Isak smiles fondly to himself. It reminds him of a conversation he once had with Even where they’d discussed how cool it might be to live inside a Christmas tree, and Isak had eventually ruled it out because the constant blinking would interrupt his attempts at sleep. 

It’s warm in this room, Isak realizes as he steps further inside, with large outdoor heaters providing a pleasant atmosphere compared to the dingy dampness of the hallway outside. The heaters also provide a soft, mellow light over the space, casting a flickering glow over the silverware that’s been placed precisely alongside what looks like china from the restaurants up above. It burnishes the red of the carefully placed napkins to a rich burgundy, as well, a colour Isak once told Even was his favorite just because he kept teasing him about the snapback he always wears when not on duty. The constant reminders of times he’s spent with Even curls Isak’s lips into an even softer smile.

“You’re early,” a voice says, a breathy, stuttery quality to it as its owner pants into the room behind Isak, the clatter of his feet loud as his footsteps echoes off the metal of the walls. “I was supposed to be here before you.”

“What is all this?” Isak gestures at the table laid out in front of them.

“Well, you agreed to eat with me,” Even says, his unfairly gorgeous blue eyes lit up as he stares into Isak’s soul. Which sets off a whole other burst of shivers, flooding Isak’s body with a warmth and a fluttery feeling that has nothing to do with the heaters. “And I’ve been trying to get you to agree for …” Even stops for a moment, eyes drifting upwards as he counts. “For months now.”

“And that meant you had to do this?” Isak is baffled. It’s not like he doesn’t know that Even is a little … well, a little over enthusiastic sometimes. But he can’t quite work out why he decided to do this rather than some more normal thing. Like catching a bite in their usual spot. That’s what they always do, meeting at odd times and sitting in quiet (or sometimes not so quiet) companionship while they grab their food when they can between tasks. It’s comfortable and natural to do that now. This is … something else entirely. This is something that sends a frisson through Isak’s body that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the promise that’s hanging in the air.

Even shrugs. Opens his arms wide. “We actually have actual time off. Together. At the same time. Why not make it special?”

Suddenly suspicious of the reasons why they might have time off together out of the blue like this, Isak narrows his eyes. “It _ is _ very unusual that we have actual time off at the same time.”

With an innocent expression, too innocent Isak thinks as he watches him closely, Even grins, strides forward and pulls out a chair for Isak to sit on, presenting it with a flourish of his hands. It’s one of the rickety wooden deck chairs they always laugh about together. The idea that one day they will fall apart under some unsuspecting passenger gives color and excitement to their days whenever they happen to be stationed on that deck at the same time. It hasn’t happened yet, but they’re both counting down the days until it does.

“Your throne, your majesty,” Even says as he nods down at the seat.

Isak approaches quietly, slowly. “If this collapses under me, I’m suing you for damages.”

“I tested it myself,” Even says softly, and there’s a tone in his voice that makes Isak shiver again as he holds that gaze. It’s serious, sincere, with none of the teasing note that so often characterizes their interactions. It makes something flutter hopefully in Isak’s belly and he smiles, any retort dying on his tongue as he looks into those vivid blue eyes. They crinkle at the edges as Even catches the look. “I promise it’s safe.”

Sitting down, Isak looks around at everything Even has set up and it all makes the hopeful thing in Isak’s belly flutter even harder. It’s like a _ date. _ A real one, just like in the movies Even always harps on about. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask about it, to just blurt out, ‘is this a date?’ and be done with it. Because he _ thinks _ it is, and it looks like it is, but Isak’s aware enough of the teasing nature of all their interactions to have a doubt. And he’s not sure he’d survive being told it’s all a joke if he actually puts himself out there like that. So he sits, looks at the things arrayed on the table in front of him, looks up at Even and quirks his brow.

“This all looks really nice, except …” he nods at the empty plates. “Except there’s no food.”

“Isak,” Even says with that familiar crinkled-up grin that always makes Isak’s heart flip over in his chest. “You need to trust your elders here. I have a perfectly planned meal ready.”

“Mmmm,” Isak says, and he can hear the disbelief in his tone because, honestly … there is a distinct lack of food in their vicinity.

“First,” Even says, rummaging behind one of the boxy shapes along one wall, “we have this wonderfully flavored soup of the day.” He emerges from behind the box flourishing a thermos, unscrewing the lid, and from which a heavenly smell is emanating. Isak’s mouth waters, and he tries surreptitiously to check that he’s not drooling. Even carefully bends his other arm behind his back and pours the soup into the small bowl in front of Isak. He’s unnaturally formal, and Isak rolls his eyes at the affectation, because they often spend their days making fun of the waiters for doing exactly this sort of thing. But he can’t squish the traitorous welling of adoration as Even steps back, bows ostentatiously and sits down so he can pour some into his own bowl. 

The table is tiny, small enough that when Even sits, his legs are pressed against Isak’s, sending a flash of heat right through him. He lifts his eyes to Even’s and finds him staring back, no teasing in that gaze anymore. Isak had been going to say something about the soup, make some snarky asshole comment about how it’s not quite warm enough to relieve some of the tension that’s building, but the look in Even’s eyes stills his tongue, and he flushes. Looks down, flustered.

There’s a hand on his arm, fingers moving softly on the delicate skin of his wrist, and Isak feels every motion as a flaming brand.

“Isak,” Even says.

He looks up again, because that hopeful thing is fluttering madly now, almost impossible to contain inside the cage of his chest. The tone of Even’s voice is so soft, so kind, filled with a plea and Isak can’t resist it. “Even,” he says, feels the wobble in it as it moves over his tongue. Grimaces.

“Isak, I … look.” He puts his spoon down and his other hand moves so his fingers can tangle with Isak’s. When Isak doesn’t pull his away, Even’s eyes close briefly and he mouths something that looks like, _ thank god, _ but Isak can’t be sure. Then Even’s eyes are open again and that stare is pinning him back into his seat and he can’t look away even if he wants to. “I don’t know what you think or what you want, but I thought … hey I’ll take a chance.” Even looks down at their hands, still clasped together, and smiles as he looks back at Isak. “Do you maybe want to go out with me sometime?”

“Like on a date?” Isak asks, half dazed from the intensity of that look and the way Even’s hands on his feel.

“Yeah like on a date.”

Isak gestures around at everything Even has set up. “This kind of already looks like a date,” he says.

Even shrugs and that teasing look is back again. “I figured if you said yes, we could start now.”

“And if I said no?”

“Then I was going to drown my sorrows in this bowl of delicious seafood chowder.”

Isak laughs. “You’re such a dork.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Even scoots his chair closer to Isak’s, pressing their legs together more firmly and making Isak’s head swim. “Good thing you like dorks then, isn’t it?”

Helplessly endeared against his better judgement, Isak can’t help but sigh fondly. He lets his own hand turn in Even’s so he can caress Even’s hand, reveling in the feeling of the soft skin of his wrist. There’s something heady in being able to do this now. He’s wanted this for so long, thought and hoped that Even wanted it too. But the confirmation makes him just as giddy and just as delighted as if they’d never met before at all and he was being swept off his feet in a love at first sight moment. _ He likes me, _ Isak thinks smugly. _ I wasn’t imagining it. _

“What’s the time?” Even asks suddenly and Isak squints at him, perplexed as he’s pulled out of his thoughts and back to the reality of the here and now.

“21.21,” he says, glancing at his phone.

Even’s face lights up, that devastating smile turned up to full volume and directed right at Isak again. It’s a lot, and it sets Isak’s insides fluttering again. “Great,” Even says happily as he drops Isak’s hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.” Even shrugs, throws his napkin on the table and stands, winking at Isak before he turns and walks to the door.

Isak doesn’t understand what’s going on, but thrumming through him is the new knowledge that he hasn’t been imagining anything. This is a date. And Even is walking away. Of course Isak follows.

They head up into the fresh air, which Isak notices is fucking freezing again now that they’re away from the heaters. He shivers, pulls his jacket tightly around him and speeds his steps so he can walk beside Even.

“Where are we going?” he asks. Even glances sideways at him and grins. His eyes are unfairly crinkly now, making Isak’s heart flip flop in his chest and he’s gone. All thoughts of what they’re doing and why flit right out of his mind, chased away by Even’s gorgeous smile and beautiful eyes. By the thrilling knowledge that he wants to date Isak, and by the thought that he’s allowed to look and admire now. This is mutual and that thought is heady.

They end up on the prow, Even clambering over ropes and rails to get to the very uppermost point. He smiles back down at Isak. “Here’s your big moment, Isak. Recreating the most epic scene from an epic movie.” He stretches his arms wide and yells, “I’m the king of the world!” to demonstrate.

Isak considers the situation, calculates the risks of climbing up and over all the crap he’ll have to navigate to get there. He watches Even, admires the length of his body and the confidence in his stance. The whole thing looks precarious and filled with danger and as much as Isak enjoys the idea of doing something ridiculous and romantic with Even, he’s just not into the idea of death to achieve it.

“Nope,” Isak says, shaking his head. “You’re not getting me up there. You can have your epic moment all by yourself.”

Even sighs, Isak can see the exaggerated slump of his shoulders even from this distance, then scrabbles over the ropes and rails and back down to Isak. He moves in close, presses their foreheads together. Overwhelms Isak’s sense with his proximity and the general Evenness of his presence. “What if I want an epic moment with you?” he says softly.

Isak shakes his head, laughing, even while his breath is stolen again. He can hear the vulnerability in Even’s voice now and everything twists into clarity. Even is as unsure of what’s happening here as Isak is. Even thinks he needs these big cheesy romantic moments in order to secure something with Isak. It settles something awkward inside him, something that has always felt like Even was well out of Isak’s league.

He lets one hand rise, touches Even’s cheeks, feels the soft skin under his fingers slightly roughened where he’s been a little haphazard with his shaving. It makes Isak smile and he lifts his eyes so he can look straight into Even’s.

“I don’t need epic,” Isak says. “It’s enough, just us.”

Even grins, something flooding his eyes as he takes that in. Something small and relieved and joyful. Something that calls to a similar something in Isak. “Just us, huh?”

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees.

“That sounds a bit boring,” Even says, his lips hovering close to Isak’s and making him lose focus. 

“That’s because _ you’re _ a bit boring,” Isak says, poking him. It’s hard to remain steady with Even’s body so close to his, with their lips so close and the urge to kiss so strong. But he wants to meet Even on his own terms, wants to keep up their banter. Because that’s what makes this them. That’s what makes this feel real and natural and not a fever dream of some sort. So he scoffs. “You need more imagination.”

“I have imagination!” Even gasps, clutching his chest with faux affront. 

“So you think we can make it interesting, then?” Isak manages to get out even through the fog in his brain. Even though every part of his body is tingling with the need to touch Even’s, even though he’s lit up and wants to get even closer.

“I think we can make it interesting,” Even agrees, and his voice is back to soft and real and open.

Done pretending to be unaffected, Isak pulls Even into a kiss, smiling against the slight gasp Even makes as their lips connect. If you’d asked Isak when they first met how a first kiss with Even would go, bantering each other into it would probably not have starred in those fantasies. And yet it’s perfect. The twinges of insecurity Isak’s been feeling. The worries that he’ll mess up. Those are all gone now, melted into nothing in the face of Even’s obvious fears and the feel of his lips. Gone in the warmth that’s spreading through him and the laughter that’s bubbling up.

It’s everything he could have wanted, and Even’s right in some ways. 

“You are the king of the world,” Isak says against Even’s lips when they finally pull back. “My world anyway.”

Even snorts and moves his hands down so they’re sitting at Isak’s hips. “Cheesy,” he says.

“Romantic,” Isak disagrees, pulling Even back in for another kiss. “You’re also king of cargo hold cuisine, if that feels better.”

“That sounds like me,” Even agrees, moving his hand back up so he can cup Isak’s cheeks. “I should take you back for the rest of the food, protect my title,” he adds, but doesn’t move his hands, choosing instead to nuzzle his nose against Isak’s, and making sure his body forgets all about food. Lost in the rush of heat through his chest.

Whatever food Even has prepared is soon forgotten because Isak doesn’t want anything other than this. Sinking into another kiss, and another, and then another. Everything else falls away. Cold, discomfort, silliness. It’s all gone in the delight of being here with Even. Kings of the cruise ship, or this small part of it anyway.


End file.
